


Reflected Shadow

by Merit



Category: Craft Sequence - Max Gladstone
Genre: Blood, Gen, Human Sacrifice, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:39:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12465516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: Everyone had dreams.





	Reflected Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gileonnen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/gifts).



The altar was still bloody with sacrifice, the body half hauled away, before the priests had broken rank and ran. Kopil swept in, his red robe dragging through dust and mud churned scarlet. The power of stars, diluted through his bones, crackled through his fingers. The woman, comely, her mouth half stretched open, stared at Kopil through tear crusted eyelashes.

The priests he summoned back. They crawled, hands bloody from the sacrifice, begging for their lives from gods Kopil had slain that morning. He struck them down, ebony spears tearing their bodies asunder. It was too merciful.

In the skies, a god shrieked, a dozen Craftspeople swarming around his rapidly dying body, his dying body lighting up the sharp lines of their suits. The sun shone brightly down, illuminating the last struggles of the god, his bonds to his followers snapped by eager knives.

Kopil reached down, closing the woman's eyes, sealed the gaping hole in her body, Craft lighting up her skin. Then he turned, robe swirling around his ankles, streaking then with human blood.

Time to make it divine.

 

 

Elayne was too young to see the first great Craft universities launched into the skies, closer to the stars, great libraries and laboratories torn from the earth, from cities disappearing between the crash of gods and Craft. She had grown up too isolated, the Craft learned in gutters, in side streets, out in the fields while the full moon looked down on them. She had ran from mobs, bonfires in the sky, angry priests casting down miracles on her head.

And soon she was lobbing back hastily assembled Craft back at them, bodies torn asunder, but she was _free_.

By the time she stepped first in a university, the blood of gods was crusted underneath her fingernails and Alexander told her there was nothing more the universities could teach her, simulacrums of gods tortured under eager eyes, demons in fragile cages, legends of the God's War walking the hallways.

But he could. Privately.

Alexander passed her a glass of wine, dark red, slicker than blood. It stung the back of her throat and Alexander watched without blinking.

 

 

There were hollows in Elayne's eyes, as if the stars had stripped her eyes first, leaving her skin and flesh behind. She smiled, and it was all glittering teeth. They shook hands, flesh against flesh and if his bones cut into her hand, her smile didn't shift.

It was Belladonna Albrecht that did most of the talking, her tone smooth, it was the words that were jarring. Kopil listened, because Belladonna had snapped the spines of more gods than him, whose power had stripped her bones of flesh at the peak of the God's War. She had mounted a demon horse, the Crack of the World looming behind her, and marched into the battle with a force of Craftsmen and woman, half of them dying by the time the moon had risen.

Kopil ran his fingers over his desk, his altar, tracing the blood of victims long since turned to dust. Brightness flared in Belladonna's eyes, her bones snapping together as she folded her arms. Her inky cloak swept to the floor and swirled around her the white bones of her feet.

He signaled for one of his assistants to bring the proper paperwork.

Elayne didn't say anything, her cheeks pale, but there was a line of doubt on her forehead.

It was the first of the agreements that would take the water from the surrounding villages and towns that were scattered around Dresediel Lex – _for_ Dresediel Lex.

Kopil signed his name with a flourish and didn't think of Elayne's frown again.

 

 

Kopil waited for her in the shadows of the cafe, the tables around his oddly empty despite the trendiness of the cafe. Elayne settled in the chair opposite him, silver streaked through her blonde hair, brighter under the Quechal sun.

"Temoc's boy wants to join RKC," Kopil said, stirring the brightly coloured fruit juice in front of him, slices of pinapple and strawberry decorating the rim.

"The process is quite competitive I hear," Elayne said, smiling at the waiter as she ordered.

"You've kept an eye on him over the years," Temoc said, faintly accusing.

"And so have you," Elayne said. "Lots of people have kept their eye on him, on the scars that Temoc drove into his flesh on the night of the Skitterskill Uprising."

Kopil stopped stirring his drink. He raised the glass and drank noisily from the straw. Everyone always told you the lack of lips was always disconcerting at first. Elayne hoped she had a few more years before she had to worry about that.

"He gambles," Kopil said. "Foolish boy."

"Boys are often foolish at that age," Elayne agreed, nodding as her tea was delivered. She poured the amber liquid into her cub, a dash of milk, before she picked up her cup and inhaled. "Boys get to be foolish these days."

Kopil frowned into his drink.

 

 

“I met your apprentice,” Kopil said, at one of those fancy gatherings Elayne couldn't refuse an invitation to. Her hair was up, her suit was blacker than a deep pit at the bottom of hell and she had passed out more business cards than she had the previous quarter. Everyone had targets.

“I've never taken an apprentice,” Elayne said, taking the proffered champagne glass was a nod. The wine was sweet, surprising good considering the amount of bottles stacked behind the back – Craftsmen and women could _drink_. And there was no bitter tinge of obligation snaking around her tongue. She smiled, savoring the taste.

Kopil flashed her some teeth, eyes flaring like a supernova, all in a skull too small. His red robe flared, sending some junior associates scattering, clinging to the bar.

“She met Caleb too,” Kopil said, raising his glass. He clinked it against hers, golden liquid shaken.

“They got along?” Elayne said, drinking again, tasting only the sweet wine.

“Cost me a fortune,” Kopil said, shrugging his expansive shoulders. “Caleb gave her the sky above Alt Coulumb. As you're aware,” he said, waving his hand, wine sliding to the edge of the glass, wave in motion. “Was in all the trades, all the demon whispers.”

“Caleb's enterprise is getting a lot of attention now,” Elayne said, placing her empty glass on a waitress' tray. She snagged a new one in a fluid gesture. “New investors.”

“They want a seat on the board,” Kopil said sourly.

“Don't they all,” Elayne said, smiling.


End file.
